


it's such a twisted story (how you got me, now you got me)

by onlysparrows



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: M/M, and there ya go, calling this a light R because the sexuality is pretty much all talk, howon's a bit of a weenie, sungjong's in charge, they exchange nudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-16 03:46:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2254659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlysparrows/pseuds/onlysparrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"From the tiny, underlit photo, everything Howon can see is familiar."</p>
<p>Or, the one where Howon and Sungjong exchange nudes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's such a twisted story (how you got me, now you got me)

**Author's Note:**

> you know those works you abandon and then look back on a year or so later and go "hey, this isn't so bad, i should complete this"? this is one of those works. originally finished it for gui, my brother-in-hojong-arms, but i figured i'd post it here too in order to get back into the swing of posting fic again. 
> 
> thanks for reading if you do, i hope you enjoy it. ^^

From the tiny, underlit photo, everything Howon can see is familiar.

Sungjong is standing in his bedroom, in front of the perpetually-unmade bed swathed in old clothes from days ago (including a couple of Howon’s own things, and now he knows where his favorite towel had disappeared to). Sungjong’s hair is still darkened with water from the shower he took earlier, but his skin is dry and glowing.

It’s easy for Howon to imagine how it’d feel. Smooth and powdery clean on Sungjong’s sides and belly, and Howon imagines sliding his hands silky and slow across Sungjong’s even frame, brushing up to stretch over his shoulders, or possibly down to grip onto his hips.

They’ve kissed but not fucked yet, but it’s looming, and Howon has just enough chaste experience with Sungjong’s body to be able to imagine what it would be like. Sungjong’s skin is always clear and beautiful, soft even on his arms and legs. Howon knows this from the times he’s brushed his fingers down Sungjong’s arm in order to hold onto his hand when they take their bows at the end of a show. He knows it from all of the times they play-fought, back when Sungjong was so utterly young and exuberant it made Howon’s head spin, and he’d grip onto Sungjong’s soft little legs as soon as he’d pinned him jokingly to the practice room floor.

So Howon knows what Sungjong would feel like, supple over every sweet inch of him. And he knows those inches, too, he’s familiar with head to toe of Sungjong. From changing backstage he knows of Sungjong’s slim torso, small but never so much that anyone could call him scrawny. He knows the pretty curves of Sungjong’s full hips from watching him change from his clingy underwear into pajamas in the quiet of their room.

After years of living together, Howon even knows the most intimate things about Sungjong. The way his ass moves when he walks, naked, across the bathroom. The size and length of his cock Howon stopped imagining the first morning they showered together to save time.

All of this forms a patchwork that enables Howon to craft a mirage idea of what Sungjong would feel like, look like, and it’s accented by the sounds he knows Sungjong would make, and the taste and feel of the younger’s lips against his that he’s now blessedly familiar with. For months he imagined fucking Sungjong with these points of his own instinct as a guide, and he felt awful, like he was cheating Sungjong’s privacy in a way. Now he thinks with freedom, and wonders if Sungjong does the same thing for him too.

With everything that Howon knows about Sungjong and his body, the surprise of the photograph brings him no shock just from looking at Sungjong alone. There is nothing new here, Sungjong’s curves are just as lovely and his skin just as milky as it always has been.

The difference here is the nature of the picture itself. It’s so completely erotic, everything about it. There’s nothing rushed about Sungjong’s nudity, no indication that he’ll be covering up as soon as he’s finished. His eyes are looking directly to the lens without the slightest hint of uncertainty, and his arm is free at his side, leaving no part of himself covered up.

Sungjong is soft in his picture, and it makes Howon feel a little bit jealous seeing how composed he is on the whole. Just the thought of Sungjong taking the photo alone is enough to make Howon’s own cock swell.

Howon gets up and crosses his room before too much time has passed, dimming his lights and taking off what little there is of his sleep clothes. He tries to hurry, to not leave Sungjong waiting and wondering what his response had been, but every pose he tries looks absurd. Unlike Sungjong, who doesn’t even need to try to look good, Howon finds himself struggling just to look comfortable.

He tries cutting his face down to showing just his mouth, open and appealing, hopefully. He licks his lips, biting them to make them look redder. He places the hand that’s not holding his phone in the space around his cock, framing it with the V of his thumb and finger.

As he takes the photos, presence escapes Howon’s mind instantaneously. He imagines himself crossing the distance between his and Sungjong’s rooms and finding Sungjong still naked in the sparse light from his lamp. In his mind, he’d close the door behind himself and Sungjong would welcome him with the same gaze as the one he holds in the photo. Howon imagines himself touching that velvet skin, and taking Sungjong on top of his bed to make it even messier than it had been before.

His thoughts are brief. Taking the picture, he figures out the one he likes best and sends it back to Sungjong before he can begin to question what he’s doing. Waiting for the response, he debates on what he should do. Put his clothes back on? He goes ahead and does it anyway. Should he go to Sungjong’s room?

There’s no reason to question long, for only a minute after he sends the photo, there’s a knock on his door. The raps are followed by the quiet sound of Sungjong clearing his throat and introducing himself needlessly. Howon throws his phone onto Dongwoo’s empty bed seconds before Sungjong opens the door.

It’s clear now that Sungjong hadn’t been stressing too much about the wait. In the time it must have taken Howon to take his photo, Sungjong has put his shorts back on and crossed the hall. Howon’s pretty sure he fixed his hair some, too.

“You didn’t have to reply,” Sungjong smiles. The sweetness behind it puts the feeling of foolishness in Howon’s stomach to rest. “I’m glad you did, though.”

“I,” is the extent of Howon’s response. Sungjong’s resulting laughter is stifled but still has a way of filling the room for the few seconds his mouth is free. Howon crosses the room and kisses him before too long, though it’s not out of a lack of appreciation for the sound of his laughter.

Sungjong moves his hands down to twist his thumbs in the waistband of Howon’s shorts, and the free edge of his thumbnails deliberately scrape against the grooved stretch of skin under Howon’s hipbone. Response shakes down Howon’s body from his shoulders to his cock, and he pushes Sungjong’s body into the door at a weak attempt at payback.

It’s sort of funny to Howon how all of his insecurities have flown out of the window now, especially since Sungjong still looks and moves as if he has every point of their relationship already planned out. Howon’s starting to think it might not be so bad, though. In more than three years of knowing him, he knows that any time Sungjong wants his way, he gets it, and it more often than not tends to come with good results.

Sungjong’s back hits the door gently and he grins into the kiss. Leaving one hand lingering close to Howon’s groin, he reaches up with the other and lays it across the back of his neck instead, deepening the kiss whilst playing with the little strands of hair that the stylists didn’t cut. As Howon’s lips part in response, Sungjong waits a second for him to shift aside and inhale, then melds their open mouths together again.

It’s nothing like the first kiss - a series of shy, lingering presses on the dorm’s living room floor. That first time days ago had been timid and uncertain as it progressed, and Howon was thinking just as much about whether or not Sungjong liked what he was doing as he was registering the fact that,  _fuck_ , he was actually kissing Sungjong and it wasn’t a dream.

As it turns out, Sungjong’s not hard to please. He responds to interest and passion most of all, and has a talent for getting comfortable in just about any situation as long as it’s genuine. Like now, with Sungjong’s lower back pressing into the handle of the door, Howon can still feel his hardness when he brushes their hips together experimentally.

The realization shortens Howon’s breath again and he breaks away. Sungjong instantly focuses his attention on Howon’s neck instead, bringing a moan from Howon’s throat before he speaks.

“Do you have any idea what I was thinking when I saw this picture?”

Sungjong chuckles, low and teasing.

“An idea, yes.”

He makes his point by slipping his hand finally into Howon’s shorts and holding it around his cock, and Howon thinks then and there that any hope he had of sweeping Sungjong off his feet has safely vanished. Sungjong isn’t here to be seduced; it’s effectively the other way around.

“What do you want to do?” Howon pauses in between words, his voice shaking out though he tries his best to stabilize it.

Sungjong replies first by re-initiating the kiss, carefully timing so that he licks into Howon’s mouth at the exact same time he draws his hand down his shaft. Howon’s skin feels like it’s on fire from it. They kiss for a moment, then Sungjong pulls away just so his mouth hovers right by Howon’s ear.

“Everything,” he whispers breathily and pulls his hand back. Flinching at the loss of feeling and the words, Howon’s eyes quickly lose their haze and turn sharp. He waits not a second more before pulling Sungjong towards his bed.


End file.
